


Hypotheticals

by ausmac



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 04:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: Really, its all in his head, right?  In that case...bring it....





	Hypotheticals

"Tyler."  
  
*sigh* "Yes?"  
  
"I've got a hypothingy question."  
  
"-etical. Hypo-thetical question."  
  
"Yeah, one o' them."  
  
"Fine, okay, give it to me then."  
  
"So, my hypothingy question is this: would you suck my dick if I paid you to?"  
  
Sam froze in the middle of the report he was writing. He swivelled to look at Hunt and he didn't even have to guess at his own expression. "Would I do WHAT?"  
  
"Suck my dick. If I paid you."  
  
Sam glanced quickly around the squad room. It was currently void of activity; the rest of the squad was in the canteen for morning tea. There was just him, Sam probably-in-a-coma and possibly on a new mind-altering drug regime, and Gene Hunt, the effect thereof.  
  
"I'll just pretend you're the result of a momentary hallucination. You probably asked me for a pen. Did you ask me for a pen?"  
  
Gene shifted his arse on the edge of Chris's desk, where he'd planted himself, looking surprisingly un-hallucinary. "Don't be a total berk. Can I have have a pen sounds nothing like will you suck my dick, which was the actual question. So, what your answer be to that, then?"  
  
It had to be some kind of test, some weird way his mind was giving its synapses a spin. He blinked, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Probably saying the obvious would cause his brain to implode. "Sure thing. Have to be a lot though. Of money, that is. I'm not cheap, y'know." He checked the room out again, trying to see if a young girl with a clown doll was lurking anywhere, possibly holding a handycam.   
  
"Right." Gene reached to his groin and undid his fly. "Fifty quid, then. More than a week's pay for you, that is. That do it?"  
  
A trickle of hysterical laughter bubbled up from Sam's gut. "Let me get this right. It wasn't actually a hypothingy question at all. So you fibbed, right there. You do actually want me to suck your dick for fifty quid."  
  
"Yeah, well, it still might be hypothingy, depending on what you do." Gene smiled crookedly as he reached in over the top of his dark blue boxers and lifted out his dick. "It might also be true."  
  
"Just hold it right there - no, not that! - I'm not getting down on my knees in the middle of the squad room to give you a blow job."  
  
"Gutless."  
  
"Not gutless, just not stupid. Consider the impact of squad morale - not to mention my reputation - if they walked in and saw me doin' it."  
  
"Knowing them buggers, they'd probably book a session. Even Cartwright. But I take your point, my trusty DI." He stood, but didn't do his fly up. "My office then."  
  
The whole world certainly had taken on a sense of unreality, as Sam followed Gene into office, closing the door quietly behind him. When he turned Gene was standing there, legs braced apart, hands on hips, Little Gene bobbing in anticipation before him. "Knees down, Mother Brown, and watch the teeth."  
  
Now would be the moment to say "April Fool!" or something similar (except that it was June) or start pinching himself to check he was awake, or just leave with a pithy comment. Instead, Sam stepped up to Gene and, looking him straight in the eye, took hold of the already half-erect cock and began to squeeze and stroke it.  
  
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "you aren't real. None of this is real. You're some bizarre aspect of my subconscious that is obviously a lot kinkier than I ever thought."  
  
"And you're a total wanking nutter but you've got a mouth I want on my dick." And with that Gene wrapped a hand around behind Sam's head and pulled it forward, and kissed him. It was hard, almost painful and Sam, who hadn't considered being aroused by Gene Hunt before, found himself hard inside his pants. Apparently being kissed by his imaginary DCI was an absolute turn on for him. He groaned, squeezed harder, kissed Hunt back with a matching pressure and was satisfied to hear the other man grunt. There was a lot of tonguing going on and he sucked hard, determined not to be the doee in the kissing area. He sucked on Gene's tongue as he continued to squeeze and stroke his cock, as it hardened and rose in his hands.  
  
Sam pulled back at last and licked his lips. Gene's eyes widened, he swallowed and, satisfied with the reaction, Sam dropped to his knees and wrapped his mouth around Gene Hunt's cock.  
  
It was surprisingly clean, smelling of soap and damp man smell and he sent up a small mental thanks for the forethought, while at the same time being awed that there had been forethought. Tipping his head to an easy angle, he drew on the memories of his time at Uni when he'd fooled around with a very nice looking Arts student from France, and sucked.  
  
Sam felt the thigh muscles under his hands clench. He twisted his head, licking and sucking, doing those things that any man would enjoy. Despite Gene's instructions he let his teeth tickle beneath the now-rigid cock, which finally got a verbal reaction; a hiss of indrawn breath. As he relaxed into it, Sam was able to take Gene deeper, though not completely. It didn't seem to be a problem though, if the grunting and muffled profanities were anything to go by.  
  
Sam reached down into his own pants, pulling himself hard as he worked on Gene, both of them rocking to the rhythm of thrust and warmth and stroke. Sam somehow knew when Gene was about to come; he pulled back, jerking himself off, shoving his face into Gene's groin, and he felt the warm splatter of fluids on his cheek and neck.  
  
A few dozen heartbeats later hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him up. Sam didn't know what to expect then, though apparently it had been the right thing to do, because his brain hadn't imploded and he felt very, very nice. So, apparently, did Gene, who unexpectedly bent forward and began licking Sam's face.  
  
"You owe me fifty quid," Sam said and Gene had the lack of taste to laugh, even as he tongued himself from Sam's cheeks.  
  
"A hypothetical fifty quid, you dozey nutter."  
  
Which was just what he should have expected, given that he was obviously crazy...


End file.
